Something to Fight For
by Keelia Ann
Summary: In a world without hope, with a heart that can't love, Harry Potter is losing sight of what he should be doing and why. He needs motivation; he needs emotion. He needs something to fight for.
1. Chapter 1: Harry

**Something To Fight For**

Summery: In a world without hope, with a heart that can't love, Harry Potter is losing sight of what he should be doing and why. He needs motivation; he needs emotion**.** He needs something to fight for.

Posted: 11 August 2008

Genre: Romance/Angst

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

Disclaimer: Wow I've spent a _long_ time on this piece. I think it has been three years now? Yes, and it's closing on four. This is my baby so it had to be perfect. I'm warning you, it's _much _darker, and _much _less "Let's go make out yay gay HP action!"-y. I'm hoping it will appeal not only to the common yaoi-obsessed preteen girl but also more sophisticated, remembrall. type readers. Except I don't have nearly as much sex in this as the Chocolate Frog does-sorry girls.

As a few notes, yes, there are deviations from the books' plot and character histories. Some are obvious (Harry and Draco never make out in the books, at least to my recollection). But there are also ones that are more subtle and, in fact, a bit embarrassing because I would like to keep this fanfiction as true as possible, but really must change things for the good of the story. For instance, for my purposes, Lily and James start going out in their sixth year. In the books, it is in the seventh. When I get further along you'll understand why I have them in, so please don't nag me about seemingly abhorrent mistakes-believe me, after nearing four years my mistakes will be few and subtle.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do.

Chapter 1: Harry

"_How did my parents meet?"_

_"Where did _that _come from? Weren't we just talking about Quidditch?"_

_"Yeah, well, Dad was an amazing Seeker, and Mom was a great player too, and I was reminded–"_

_"You've been thinking about them a lot lately, haven't you?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"...I have too. It's all this damn Order business. They were the best of the Order, the best of us all. Amazing, they were. Amazing magicians. Amazing friends."_

_"I wish I had known them."_

_"Who says you can't? I still feel them, they're part of me_._ As long as I'm here you have a link to them."_

_"Thank you, Sirius."_

_"James and Lily... I never thought he'd get her, you know, no matter what he said. She _hated _him. Bad first impressions that, thanks to his youthful pigheaded-ness, lasted until our sixth year. They met in a robe shop. He thought she was cute and tried to show off to her. Came off as a complete snob. She wanted nothing to do with him, but he didn't take her not-so-subtle hints until she petrified him a bit over halfway through our first year."_

_"Heh, that sounds like something Hermione would do."_

_"Lily was a lot like Hermione. A perfect little angel, admired by her peers and adored by her teachers. As you know, she was the star Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and a prefect, though in her last year Head Girl. She was intelligent, hard working, kind, _beautiful_... James wanted her _so _bad. He could have had anyone, any other girl he wanted. He and I were the most popular, the most liked, and-if I do say so myself-the most handsome guys in the school by year four. I was quite a playboy in my day, and encouraged him to take advantage of his celebrity status and have some fun too. But he never did. He wanted only one girl-a girl who hated him."_

_"But something happened, in their sixth year."_

_"Yes, and even I don't know what. They just started talking, and they'd hang out alone together at the library, and on the Quidditch field, till late at night. We–Peter, Remus and I–thought for sure they'd be together soon. Then something weird happened. After one of their late night Quidditch practices, a night when it was raining hard, James came to our dormitory, and started throwing things. He was screaming, swearing, kicking, so angry, just _crazy_. It took Remus and I a whole half an hour to calm him down enough that he'd tell us what happened. He had asked her to kiss him, and she hadn't. He cried the rest of the night."_

_"Doesn't that seem a bit... extreme?"_

_"He knew he loved her, and he thought she didn't love him. It _crushed _him. Though they went about as they had, talking, laughing, almost friends, there were no more trips to the library, no more Quidditch practices. Remus was so upset about it; he'd say, "Can't you see how _sad _they are?" and be sad too. I couldn't feel it like him; I was just a guy. But I did notice something was off. When it rained he'd get moody, stare out the window. We knew he was looking at her, at what happened–what didn't happen. And then one night, we were in the dormitory, and it was raining, and he was polishing his broomstick as we pretended to study. His arm went back-forth, back-forth. Then Remus stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. James stared at him–I'll never forget the look in his eyes–and then got on his broom, and flew out the window. He was gone all day. That night, at dinner, he and Lily came into the hall together, not holding hands, not touching anywhere, but looking at each other with such intensity, no one could bear to even stare at them. After that... well, I've never known two people more in love."_

_"I wish I could have a love like that."_

_"You will, someday. You just have to know how to listen to your heart. You listen to it, and you'll find your person. You'll find a person to love, a person to cherish. A person to fight for. And Harry, I _promise_, once you two are able to be with each other, when you are with each other, even if it's short like it was for James and Lily, you will be happy."_

Hermione was talking, wasn't she? Harry struggled to focus. Slug Club? She is saying she doesn't... Oh, um, no. I don't like him either. Yes, yes he is a _very_ odd man. Yes, hopefully he'll be a good teacher regardless. No, I don't suppose he'll last. Yes, I'm sure there must be a curse, there have been too many coincidences to be ignored.

_Why don't I care about this? _Harry wondered as following his friend mindlessly and nod-mmm-hmm or shake-mmm-mmm-ing along with her babbling speech. _This is beyond, "Meh, I really don't give a shit". This is total numbness. I _don't care_. I cared during the summer, a bit. But now it's all gone._

_Wait... something is different. _Her voice had changed.

Harry drifted out of his stupor just in time to watch Hermione slip into the compartment Ron had been waiting for them in, to give he and Cho Chang a moment alone.

There was a long period of silence in which they both stared at the floor. Cho looked down towards the ground because she was (obviously) uncomfortable, and Harry looked at the ground because it was more interesting then her face. He could see old scorch marks, odd green-gray stains, and other Technicolor remnants of mock duels between bored students. Even more pleasing was that the floor did not want him to talk to it.

The floor would not mind if he did nothing at all.

"I read about Sirius Black in the Daily Prophet."

A shiver ran down his spine. He didn't want to talk about Sirius. _I'll talk, but about anyone, anything, but Sirius. _

"How he was good."

_And he's dead for his goodness, _Harry thought bitterly. _He's _gone _because of his damn goodness._

"He was your godfather, right?"

The floor blurred and his throat tightened. He blinked away the tears; he knew by now crying wouldn't bring his friend-his father-back.

Two hands, warm and moist, gently clasped his cheeks and lifted his face up. Her eyes were moist as well.

"It's hard, losing someone you care about." He voice was thick with emotion. "My uncle..." Her hands fell to her sides, and droplets of wet rolled down her face. "My uncle is gone. We don't know where. So many people vanish, to be found dead or not at all. You-Know-Who gets _everyone_."

Harry turned away-he couldn't face her now. Because he knew where this was heading. He knew where it always ended.

"But there's hope."

_Don't say it. Please do _not_ say it._

"_You_ are our hope."

He closed his eyes. Why did it _always _have to be him? _He _had to kill Voldemort. It was up to _him_. If _he _didn't save the world, the world would die.

_Why did I ever even bother? _Harry thought, not even angrily, not even sadly. _Why did I ever even care? I was so stupid, so cocky. I thought I could save the world, but I couldn't. __I couldn't save Sirius, and I can't save my friends. There's nothing to fight for; if I try to fight all my friends will die. My heart can't take much more. It's already full of ice._

"Harry, I still like you."

_What?_

"I want to try again."

Harry would have laughed if he could still laugh.

"Do you want to try?"

Try what? Liking her? Harry knew that was impossible.

Or was it?

Harry's heart was so cold, so barren. He was afraid to feel, because if you feel you love, and he couldn't take losing another love. Could he?

"I'm not sure if I can..." Harry murmured. "But... I will try."

She wrapped her arms around him; her tears dampened his back. "Thank you, Harry. We can go as slow as you want. I just want you to be happy."

_Then bring back Sirius. _He closed his eyes. _Bring back my will to fight._

"Do you know where the Prefect's Bathroom is?"

He nodded.

"The password this year is 'Avis.' Let's meet there this Friday at 10:00, when all the younger kids are asleep. We can swim and relax. It'll be fun, won't it?"

He nodded.

"I'll see you later, Harry." She kissed the back of his neck, lightly, and trotted off.

"What am I doing?" He whispered to the emptiness of the corridor. "This is ri-di-cu-lous. I don't even like her."

_I guess I'm that desperate to feel again._

He entered the compartment Ron and Hermione were in. Hermione, teary eyed and furious, glared a the seat across from her while Ron, beet red and scowling, focused moodily on the scenery that flashed by out the window. The tension was thick enough to swim through.

"What happened this time?" Harry asked sourly. He had no patience for their spats, which had this time happened without them even yelling.

They exchanged a glance, turned huffily away from each other, and snapped simultaneously, "_Nothing_."

Harry drew in a sharp breath, trying to calm his growing irritation. "Whatever happened," he forced out, "make up fast. I'm not in the mood to hear you bicker. I have a headache and this does not help."

Hermione frowned worriedly, and even Ron looked at him with concern. "Is it your scar?" Hermione asked.

"Well, my scar's always hurting nowadays, but at the moment there's something extra too. It's one of the headaches I keep getting; they started ever since Sirius–" his voice broke. "They started then."

Hermione's brow furrowed, she was upset, but she said nothing. Ron didn't either. What was there to say?

"How did things go with Cho?" Hermione finally asked, breaking the silence.

"We're going on a date this Friday."

"That's great!" Hermione and Ron said at the same time. They exchanged horrified glances (for it was obviously horrible to share a thought), and then hurriedly turned away. Harry sighed.

"Yes, it's great..."

"Why shouldn't it be?" Ron questioned, confused by his sarcasm.

_Because I don't like her, especially not in the way she likes me. _

_Because I miss Sirius and his death matters most right now._

_Because I care more about making my own heart better than hurting her heart. _

_Because that makes me _hate _myself._

"It is great."

"Of course it is." Ron leaned back and put his feet up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep." He closed his eyes and was soon snoring.

Hermione gave him a searing look. With a disgusted noise, she stood up and announced she was going to go patrol. Harry nodded and watched the door slide close.

_What is wrong with me? _Harry thought, filled with despair and self-loathing. _Why can't I even trust my friends? I know I __love_ _them. I know I want them to be happy._

_Then I guess it's good I'm not telling them anything. _Harry felt weak, his eyes were getting heavier and heavier. _They'd be sad because I am sad. I can't let that happen. I can't do much, not as much as people expect of me, but I can keep them happy, until they die at least._

His eyes were closed. _They will die. But I will die first._


	2. Chapter 2: Hermione

Posted: 18 August 2008

Chapter 2: Hermione

"_I HATE HIM!"_

_"I know."_

_"Why does he always DO this!"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Why does he always have to YELL!"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Can't he see how SAD he's making me? How HURT I am?"_

_"He's a guy."_

_"THAT'S NO EXCUSE!"_

_"Hermione, we both know he shouldn't have said what he said. We both know that you are very upset. We both know that if life were fair, he wouldn't've said it, you wouldn't've been hurt, and all three of us would be hanging out right now instead of you screaming at me and the lake."_

_"Harry, is that really supposed to comfort me?"_

_"Hush, I wasn't finished. But we also_ _both know that he is very upset too, and feels just awful for yelling, but his pride won't let him say he was wrong. This has happened before and will happen again. He's my best friend, but he can be a bit of a git sometimes."_

_"'A bit of?'"_

_"I can too though, apparently."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Girls expect guys to read their minds. You want us to say a certain thing, shut up about another, smile and frown or what ever all at the right moments. You expect us to be perfect. _You _expect _Ron_ to be perfect."_

_"No... I don't."_

_"Yes you do. That's why you are so upset that he isn't."_

_"No I _don't_. I know he's imperfect, that's why I love him so much. But I _do_ expect him to actually care about my feelings."_

_"He does, a lot. He's been all shut up about this. He's embarrassed. He nearly said he felt bad to me, something about him not meaning to yell, but when I looked at him his ears turned red and he mumbled something about being provoked."_

_"'Provoked'? Grrr, that makes me so-! How can he use that as an excuse? There's _never _an excuse to yell!"_

_"You have only just finished screeching."_

_"Oh Harry, you know what I mean. Yelling at someone with the intent of making him or her suffer emotionally is just unacceptable. I hate being yelled at."_

_"People yell, and as much as it sucks you kind of have to learn to live with it."_

_"You never yell."_

_"At you."_

_"Exactly."_

_"Hermione, you are _impossible_."_

_"...Harry, will we be friends forever?"_

_"Um... maybe? We don't fight like you and Ron do, but I suppose something could happen..."_

_"I hope we are."_

_"...I hope so too."_

_"Please, just remember not to yell at me!"_

"Harry! Wake up Harry! Please wake up! Harry! Harry!"

He blinked blurrily, and then shifted. Her friend stared blearily at her, then out the window, then-

"WHA-!" He jumped. "We're a Hogwarts! Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"I thought Ron was going to!" Hermione cried. His tone and volume tore through her, leaving gaping wounds.

_Does he _hate_ me?_

"I'm so sorry, please don't yell!"

He swore and struggled up. He hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it off. "Get my robes," he barked, now tugging off his shoes and tossing them aside.

_Why is he _doing_ this? _

She unzipped his suitcase, found a set of Harry's Hogwarts uniform, folded perfectly by Molly Weasley.

"Now, Hermione!"

_Why does he have to _yell_?_

She pulled out a shirt and handed it to him.

"Just give them all to me! I can do it myself-I don't need you standing here while I'm in my boxers!"

Hermione bit her lip, forcing back tears. She got the rest of the clothes and put them on the seat next to him. "Will you still be angry at me when we get to dinner?"

"I'm not angry at you."

"Then why are you yelling?"

Hermione turned away; she couldn't let him see her tears.

_He can_not_ see how sad I am. How much this is hurting me. _

"Look, I don't have time for this." He didn't even care. "I need to get dressed, and you need to join the prefects."

"Can we at least talk later?"

"Why?"

She turned, mouth agape with shock and anger at his insensitivity.

"Harry James Potter, you are a _git_!"

And she left. Left him and his stupid what-was-_that_-about face.

"What is _wrong _with him!" she cried wrathfully, her trolley practically flying behind her angry stride. "He yells and whines and has no consideration..."

She was late to the carriages, they were just ahead of her, but she didn't care to chase after them.

"He doesn't he care about my feelings at all! Or Ron's! He's being so, so..."

She stopped.

_Don't say it_.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

_Do _not_ say it._

"Different."

She fell to the ground, sobbing in earnest.

_That's such an unromantic word, _a part of her chided. _"Different." Why are you reacting so strongly to it?_

"Because it's the old Harry I love, and the old Harry was my friend."

_So? Learn to love this one._

"I can learn to love him, but will he learn to love me?"

_He already loves you._

"Not anymore."

"Please don't say that."

"Ron?"

He looked so sad. He looked so terribly sad. Like he was crying to, except there were no tears.

"Please don't say he doesn't love you anymore. 'Cause if he doesn't love you, then he doesn't love me. And if he doesn't love me... I just couldn't take it. He's my best friend, you know?"

"Yeah..." Her voice broke, and more tears fell. "Yeah, I know."

"Hey, don't cry... Please don't cry. I brought my broom when I saw you, we can put a featherweight charm on your stuff and catch up to the carriages."

"I don't care about that at all."

"I know." He knelt down by her side and took her left hand with his right. "But we can't just mope around, waiting for him to get better, can we? Something's messed up with him right now, 'cause of Sirius or something, but he'll get right. He always does. We have to be there for him, so he'll know that we're still his friends when he gets right."

"Ron..." Hermione kissed his cheek gently. "That is possibly the most sensitive thing I've ever heard you say."

"Well, I don't know, it's just what I think." She could hear the famous Weasley flush on his voice. "Are you better for now?"

She wiped her eyes and nodded.

He smiled, the _big_, happy smile that made her love, not just love but _love_, him. "Good. You sit here. I'm not as good at you at Charms but I think I can perform a proper Featherweight."

She giggled and hiccupped. "And if you get it wrong I can always tell you what's right."

And he did it, _perfectly_. He got on his broom, and then helped her on behind him. "Hang on to me tight, I don't want you to fall."

She did, enjoying the warmth of his back. _Ronald, when did you grow up? When did you become such a wonderful man? _She pressed against him, just because she could. _I wish Harry would grow up to be happy and kind like you, and not... not sad._

_But you're right. We have to be happy for him. And we will be._

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."


End file.
